


I'd Give You My Hand (If You’d Reach Out and Grab It)

by aurons_fan



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurons_fan/pseuds/aurons_fan
Summary: When Sam reopens the portal, he's not expecting Tron to follow him out of the Grid and into the real world. Between that and working to take over ENCOM with Alan, Sam's got a lot on his plate.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



> To my dear Yuletide giftee: This story was maybe half the length it is now when I had to first started making edits and then it got longer and longer and… now we’re at the current word count. I _loved_ all your prompts, but sadly only picked one. Perhaps one day!
> 
> Also, small note but you’ve probably been one of my favorite authors in this fandom and… well, many others, so I _may_ have freaked out a bit when I saw you were my giftee. But! I hope you enjoy your fic, and happy Yuletide!
> 
> Title is from “Into the Dark” by the Julianna Theory because when it came time to pick a title, it was this or going straight into Evanescence territory and I didn’t think we wanted to go there.
> 
> Many thanks for my beta for beta-ing and for dealing with me this past few months. It's been a grand adventure, right?! Right.

When Sam opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Quorra starring down at him. One of her hands rests on the ray that had beamed him into the Grid for the second time, but it’s more out of precaution than anything else. 

A myriad of emotions threatens to overtake Sam, but instead he offers her a small smile and stands up, slowly working the cricks out of his neck. “Everything good on our end?”

She nods, looking down at the control panel in front of them. “Nothing bad happened out here,” she says, typing out a few commands. “Nothing happened at all if I’m being completely honest with you.” She gives him a look. “Has the Grid…?”

“Changed?” Sam offers. “No. It’s going to take a lot of work to fix it, and I don’t know how much I can do from in there, with all those people—Programs…” Quorra tries to pin him with a look but, but he presses on. “With so many Programs lost and confused.”

She presses a hand to his shoulder. “Sam, they just lost the creator _and_ the man who brought order to the system,” she says. “Clu was a dictator, but now they have nothing. Give them time.”

He had an amazing vantage point where he watched Clu and his father merge back together and destroy most of the Grid, thank you very much. So he knew firsthand about that neither Clu nor the Grid’s creator were around anymore.  Either way, between seeing his father explode and the stunt Sam and Alan are about to pull on the ENCOM board, Sam has one too many things on his mind. Anymore and he’s going to have to give something up.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, waving a hand. “Just make sure the beam is powered down, alright?” He moves to step away, but she follows, still looking concerned.

“And Rinzler—“ She pauses, frowns. “Did you find anything?”

Sam lets his silence answer for him as he treks up the stairs to FLYNN’s Arcade.

\--

It’s been just over a month since Sam returned from his first adventure on the Grid. From working with Alan to take over his father’s company and trying to get Quorra acclimated to the real world, there’s a lot of things distracting Sam from his typical day-to-day.

Now, he refuses to visit the Grid unless he can have Quorra watching the controls. But with both of them so busy in the real world, trips down are few and far between. He also wants to eventually take Alan, but Alan already seems overwhelmed with the very idea of the Grid. To drag Alan along while the Grid was in desperate need of repair might be a bit shortsighted.

Besides, Sam can tell that the takeover ENCOM weighs heavily on Alan’s mind and Sam doesn’t want to distract the man. Not after they’ve been working with the board and upper management for the past few weeks and they’re _finally_ starting to make progress.

All Sam really wants is proof. He spent his childhood waiting for his father to pop up and surprise him that he hadn’t really abandoned him. But when Sam had entered the Grid again, all he had seen was chaos. No Kevin Flynn. No Clu. And definitely no Rinzler, lost somewhere during their last battle.

There’s enough things on Sam’s mind to distract him from this, but the disappointment of knowing there are no more place for him to check causes him to pause. Instead, he focuses all his energy onto making ENCOM better. Because Quorra and Alan are great, but they’re really all he’s got.

\--

 When Sam realizes someone has been following him far too closely after he’s left Alan’s house, Sam curses under his breath. A quick glance behind him tells him the that the guy following him is in a hoodie and probably about his height and build. Great. This is just perfect. Alan might live in a fairly nice neighborhood, but leaving at 2am isn’t a smart plan for anyone, even him.

He isn’t too worried about his bike – they can try to wheel it off but it’s going nowhere without his keys - but he’d prefer not to have to beat someone up on Alan’s street. That would not be good press for the ENCOM board. 

Sam had been over at Alan’s house laying out plans for what Sam needs to accomplish in order to convince the board to overthrow Richard Mackey and replace him with Alan. Quorra had been nestled in the corner, watching them discuss business practices (“No, Sam, we can’t just waltz into the middle of a meeting and tell him he’s fired. Do you have any idea how corporate America even _works_?”), before disappearing off into one of Alan’s many bedrooms she’d commandeered once Sam admitted to Alan that she needed a place to stay.

According to Alan, Sam’s apartment was simply no place for a lady (or, well, any human at all), so Alan had offered her a space in his house. And Alan, being Alan, even had offered Sam a room to crash in when their discussion of their future plans had taken longer than anticipated.

But Sam knows Alan. He’d grown up with the man practically playing father to him, so he could usually tell the difference between a concerned comment and a playful jab at the place he called an apartment. So instead, Sam had waived him off and headed to his bike.

If he’d known he was going to be followed and possibly _mugged,_  he might have taken Alan up on that offer.

He keeps one hand in his pocket, slowly picking up the pace. If necessary, he can give up his phone and his wallet without much hassle (but with much complaining later), but it’s the small chip around his neck he hopes won’t attract much attention. The entirety of the Grid rests against his chest, and if he has any hope of getting back in there and looking around, he can’t just well hand it off to the first guy who threatens him in the real world. Sam isn’t normally a violent guy, but after seeing the state of the Grid, if he can’t get to it anymore, he’d definitely be willing to punch a few people.

His bike’s just ahead and Sam tries to quicken his pace without being too obvious. If he can just hop on and go, he’ll be okay, but considering the pace of the person behind him speeds up as well, he doesn’t think he’ll be so lucky.

He’s been clutching his keys in the hopes of actually using them for the bike, but it seems like he’ll be punching someone with them instead as someone roughly shoves him from behind. Sam grits his teeth, fists tightening on his keys. He hears his attacker laugh and start to say, “Hey man, give me your wallet—”

But then like that, his attacker is gone.

Sam hesitates, looking around for the person who has just vanished into thin air. Just off in the distance, it looks like there’s a minor fight, with one guy in a hoodie dragging another into an alley. Sam feels like he should go help when his foot nudges something. He glances down, eyes widening when he notices the knife on the ground.

Oh, well, that changes things quite a bit.

He mentally thanks the person who had stopped his would-be-attacker, before hopping on his bike and peeling off. It crosses his mind to maybe keep quiet about this little encounter to Alan, lest he has to deal with the “I told you so” smirk.

\---

Sam’s in the middle of another set of all-day meetings at ENCOM when that weird feeling of being followed strikes again. He takes a quick inventory of the room – filled with executives all politely arguing with each other about the pros and cons of Sam occupying such a high position – and shakes his head. He must be losing his mind. He’s been in these meetings for days now, with the meetings all beginning and ending on the same topic: people telling him a switch-over of the Chairman isn’t something to be done willy-nilly, but they were so pleased that Sam was following his father’s footsteps and working on taking a role in the company.

He doesn’t see anyone that should give that feeling, like he’s being stalked, until he locks eyes with Edward Dillinger Jr. Sam tries his best not to shiver, but Dillinger Jr. just stares at Sam over his glasses, quiet, contemplative, and curious.

Even if Sam has never been a fan of either Dillinger, Dillinger Jr has enough clout in the company that he has permission to sit in on all of the corporate meetings discussing Sam’s fate. When Alan brings up the direction the company can go with Sam working alongside upper management for a smooth transition, Dillinger Jr focuses on Sam. Yet being watched by Dillinger Jr doesn’t seem to quite compare to that feeling Sam had of… well, of someone tracking him. It feels vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it.

After hours of debating and arguments, the meetings have a bathroom break. Sam is out of his seat faster than anyone else, looking for Alan. Sam wants to go over one of the financial analyses the corporate team had presented in the massive packet they’ve been given, but he sees the man is surrounded by executives who are nodding intensely and smiling. Good sign.

Sam retreats to Alan’s office to grab a bottle of water. They haven’t officially given Sam his own office or cubicle or even place he could hang his coat, which was still a little grating. Human Resources had tried to argue that it would possibly be a bad look for him to get an office before being officially named a position. Sam gets that, he really does. But he just wants to come into the office in the mornings without having to follow Alan into his office like a kid going to the principal’s office.

“He didn’t even fucking finish college, and that kid thinks he can run a company?”

Sam lowers his drink, inching closer to Alan’s door which is cracked open. Walking past are a small cluster of employees, all clutching coffee mugs like they’re just returning from the kitchen. The apparent leader of the group, a brunet guy a little taller than Sam, scowls.

“We’re supposed to take orders from some kid who can’t be bothered to even sit in on company business and plays pranks every year? Is this some kind of joke?” The guy hisses, voice still loud enough to carry through the open door. “Are they _trying_ to get us to quit? _Fuck_ that kid.”

The woman besides him shushes him. “Jacob, cut him some slack. He _is_ Kevin Flynn’s son…”

That clearly isn’t enough for Jacob, who shoots back, “Even if he really is, he couldn’t even graduate college, and now we’re just supposed to accept that he can run this company? Give me a break! The rest of us actually _worked_ to get here, and we’ve had to watch him cozy up to executives because of his father? What has Kevin Flynn done for the rest of us recently?!”

Without thinking about it, Sam steps out of the office. He probably should have waited for them to pass or get further in the conversation, but he’s heard enough. The employees freeze, and even the guy who had been loudest of the group goes quiet.

Sam knows he can’t just punch the guy in the face, not with the board down the hall, but he gives them all a faint smile. “A lot of the coding this company profits from was made by my father,” Sam says. His smile must not reach his eyes because a few of the women start to whisper to each other. “Since you’re curious.”

The one Sam assumes is ‘Jacob’ steps forward, ignoring the pleading hand of a woman nearby him. “Listen kid,” he says. “Some of us had to _work_ to get these jobs. You could at least be grateful to the company that was handed to you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. Jacob is far more muscular than Sam would’ve believed for someone working at ENCOM (but then again, Sam didn’t look the type either). There’s a vein practically popping out of the man’s temple, and Sam knows he shouldn’t do anything to piss this guy off but… Well. Sam can’t resist.

“I _am_ grateful,” Sam says. “But I’m not so sure ENCOM is the best place for you. Your attitude doesn’t seem to fit with our company culture.”

Sam’s been in enough fights to know that a punch is coming his way, so he steps back just in time for Jacob’s fist to pass through empty air. Sam is about to go on the defensive, because he’s not about to let this asshole hit him, when Security appears almost out of nowhere, grabbing Jacob’s arms.

“Fuck you!” Jacob screams. He’s kicking at them, trying to break from their grip, but they manage to hold him down. Once he realizes he’s not going to break free, he snarls at Sam, “Just you wait, pretty boy,” he hisses. “You’re going to get yours.”

Sam shrugs and turns, heading back to the meeting. He’s far over the allotted time for the bathroom break, but the entire meeting is about him and Alan. They can deal. He attempts to slip in, but the room quiets almost immediately as he steps in. Oops.

 “Now that we’re all here,” Dillinger Jr. says, nodding over to Sam. “Perhaps we can continue the meeting?”

Dick.

Sam raises a hand in apology, before turning back to the agenda for the next hour. He tries to focus, he really does, but he can’t get the man’s words out of his head. Sure, from the outside, it seems like Sam just woke up one day and decided to take over a company. But Sam can code better than half of this company, considering he grew up ripping apart computers for fun. So _fuck_ that guy and anyone else who thinks he isn’t good enough because he didn’t be bothered to sit in a classroom learning shit he already knew.

And that damn _feeling_. Sam glances around the conference room as stealthily as he can. They’re on the highest floor of this impossibly tall tower. (He knows. He still has the scars from jumping off it a few months ago). He thinks he sees someone, the building over. If he squints, he can see that the guy is wearing a hood over his head, but that’s all he can tell. He can’t tell if they’re actually staring at him, but it certainly feels like it.

“Sam.”

Sam freezes, and turns to see the entire conference room staring at him. Alan doesn’t look annoyed, just amused, which somehow bothers Sam even more.

But it’s Dillinger Jr who is staring at him the hardest. “Now that you’re paying attention, would you like to focus on the numbers at hand?” he asks. The worst part is he doesn’t sound condescending.

“Yeah, uh. Sorry,” Sam says, moving closer to the table. He _knows_ these numbers, studied them and went over them with Alan a few nights ago. But Dillinger Jr’s look (which isn’t even fucking _smug_ , that asshole) is throwing him off his game.

The guy a few buildings over is pushed from his mind.

\---

It’s late in the evening when the meeting finally ends for the day. People in the conference room step out, chatting and musing aloud about the progress they’ve made. Dillinger Jr lingers behind, Sam notes, as he and Alan get ready to leave.

“I’m going to be stuck here a few more hours,” Alan says, packing his tablet away. “I can order some Thai, if you’re hungry?”

Sam shakes his head, wishing Dillinger Jr would just leave already. “I’m alright, Alan.”

Alan picks up on what’s bothering Sam without even looking up. He’s always had that skill, even before Sam’s father disappeared. “I can order you some too, Edward?”

“Thank you, Alan,” Dillinger Jr says, finally standing. “But I should probably head home. More financial plans to go over before tomorrow.”

He leaves just as Sam starts to grit his teeth. Alan waits until Dillinger Jr is far enough away before quietly saying, “He’s a valuable asset on our board, Sam. Don’t antagonize him.”

“I’m not!” Sam protests. He resists the urge to cross his arms and scowl because he’s 27, not 12. “Dammit. Something just feels off.”

Alan raises an eyebrow as they head back to his office. “Did something happen with the Grid?”

Sam does scowl at that. “No, it’s just…” He hesitates. Alan was already freaked out enough with news of the Grid. He doesn’t need to add to the man’s stress by mentioning that he feels like he’s being stalked, nor the almost fight that happened earlier. Knowing Sam’s luck, Alan will hear about it before the day ends. “It’s nothing, Alan.” He grabs his coat and bag with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Don’t stay too late!”

He leaves before Alan can add anything. Sam knows Alan has to have good advice for dealing with dicks in corporate America, but Sam’s not in the right mindset for advice right now. He just wants to go home and sleep for a solid 10 hours.

After a stop to the bathroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt to ride home, the trip down to the garage is short and uneventful. He’s digging through his bag for his motorcycle keys when he hears someone step up behind him.  “I told you you’d get yours.”

Sam pauses, hand still in his bag. That voice. He turns and sees the guy from earlier watching him from beside a car. Sam lets out a sigh, shaking his head.

“Didn’t Security already deal with you?” Sam says, mostly to himself.

“I got _fired_ ,” Jacob spits.

Sam shrugs, pulling his keys out of his bag. He shouldn’t be so nonchalant but really, what’s this muscle-head going to do to him in public? “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “But that’s what you get when you try to punch the majority shareholder.”

He’s about to turn away and head off to his bike when the flash of something silver catches his eye. Jacob drops his bag and holds a gun steady to Sam’s chest.

Fuck. The smirk slides off Sam’s face immediately, and he takes a step back. _Fuck_ , the garage isn’t even that big, and there’s nowhere for Sam to run without still being in range.

“I’m sick and tired of the nepotism at this company,” Jacob says, taking a step closer to Sam. Sam takes a step back. “Dillinger getting a spot for his son after the shit he pulled and now you show up and get to be CEO? Fuck that.”

“Jacob…” Sam says, raising his hands. His mind goes blank, vision tunneling until all he can see is that gun pointed squarely at his chest. “Come on man, take it easy. I’m sure we can work something out…?”

Jacob finally smiles, grins really. It’s wide and a bit maniacal and Sam feels his stomach drop. “It’s a little too late for that, pretty boy.”

After surviving the Grid, this isn’t really how Sam thought he’d go. There’ll be no way he can fix the Grid at all if he’s shot in the middle of a fucking garage. Shit, Alan is going to be _pissed_. He always told Sam that running his mouth was going to get him killed, and it looks like Alan was right.

Jacob clicks the safety off and Sam’s eyes widen. Jacob aims, calm as you please. 

Then the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck shoot straight up. Before he can even register the movement, Jacob’s been tackled onto the ground by a guy in a dark hoodie. The same color hoodie as the guy from the rooftop, and from one of the guys from last night. Fuck – had his almost mugger followed him the entire time? Is this guy even the attacker? Sam’s brain attempts to process this as the guy in the hoodie punches Jacob in the face. The new guy has grabbed the gun from Jacob’s hand, and all of Jacob’s bravado has gone straight out the window.

The guy pulls the clip from the gun, tossing both in opposite directions, before landing another punch on Jacob’s face. Jacob steps back, attempting to defend himself but this new guy is _brutal_ , with a weirdly familiar attack style. Jacob stumbles over his feet trying to block the attacks, and the guy follows him to the ground, continuing to punch him relentlessly.

A part of Sam is loving this karma, but Jacob’s face is a bloody mess and the man looks close to tears. “Hey, stop!” Sam says, moving forward to grab the mysterious guy’s arm. Sam pauses first, and grabs the gun off the ground. No use to letting Jacob free just so he can try shooting Sam again.

Sam can’t pull the guy off Jacob (he can’t tell if it’s because he’s too weak or he’s really not trying, or because he’s also _holding a gun_ ), but the guy seems to acquiesce to Sam’s tugging, and climbs off of Jacob. The guy keeps his hood down, though.

Jacob sits up, looking a little dazed. Sam doesn’t want to offer condolences to the man who almost shot him, so instead Sam just crosses his arms. Jacob looks up to him and seems to fixate on the gun. He launches forward.

The hoodie guy punches Jacob again, knocking him back down. “Leave,” he says. “Or I won’t stop until you’re dead.”

Sam freezes. Why does that voice sound so familiar? _Impossibly_ familiar, as though Sam has grown up with some version of it his entire life?

Jacob snarls but gets up and leaves, running in the opposite direction. Blood’s dripping from his face and Sam… doesn’t feel all that bad about it.

He waits until Jacob is far out of sight, before turning to the guy in the hoodie, eyes wide. “Who the hell are you? Why have you been following me? And what the _hell_ was that?” Sam’s far too expressive and then it hits him he’s holding a _gun_.

The hoodie guy offers out a hand. Before Sam can react, the guy has taken the gun out of Sam’s hands and drops it onto the ground. The guy stomps on it, crushing it under his heel. Holy _shit_ , this guy has that much power? Who is he?!

With that out of the way, the guy in the hoodie stares at Sam – or well, Sam assumes. Sam can’t see his face well enough to be sure.

“He attacked you,” the guy says, his voice too calm for the fight he’d just been in.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Sam pushes the hood off the guy. The guy doesn’t resist. He just looks up and locks eyes with Sam.

Sam’s hand drops to his side, eyes widening. “Alan?” Sam whispers.

The guy in front of him looks like Alan must have decades ago. But his expression is… _wrong_. It’s blank, with no emotion registering on it at all. The guy finally looks down, as if embarrassed, but one wouldn’t be able to tell that from his expression.

“I am not Alan-One,” the guy says simply.

If Sam had been shocked before, that’s nothing to how he feels now. He had known about Clu, being the exactly replica of his father’s image. But he remembers the stories his father used to tell him about Programs in the Grid, back when he thought it was a bedtime story, about how Programs used to look like their programmers. And his father had said that Alan had helped him code _Space Paranoids_ , had helped him create…

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes. “ _Tron?”_

Tron looks back up, giving almost an imperceptible nod. “I used to be called that,” he says, almost contemplatively. “More recently, I was known as Rinzler.”

Annnnd shit. There it is. It’s not enough that the hero of his father’s stories is standing in front of him in a dirty hoodie, looking worse for the wear. But this was the Program who had tried to kill him multiple times on the Grid.

Fuck.

 “How are you…” Sam begins, trailing off. How can he finish that statement? Here? Alive? Either of them would have been difficult to respond to.

Tron doesn’t say anything. Sam reaches forward, because he wants to be 100% sure that he isn't losing his mind or something like that, when the screech of a car in the distance causes him to stop, hand inches away from Tron’s face.

Shit. They’re still at ENCOM. Tron, practically wearing Alan’s _face_ , is standing in front of him. There’s a crushed gun on the ground. And who knows if that’s not Jacob, back for revenge.

Sam rummages through his bag, grabbing a plastic grocery bag. He goes to pick up the gun from the ground when Tron reaches it first. Sam hesitates, but the Program just uses the part of his hoodie that hadn’t gotten Jacob’s blood on it to wipe it down, before dropping it into the bag.

Fuck, this isn’t how Sam thought his night was going to go.

Sam reaches up, covering Tron’s face back with the hood, before grabbing his arm, dragging him back into the elevator. “Come on,” Sam says. Tron doesn’t object to the handling, and the elevator doors close quickly.

But that feeling of being watched is back and Sam doesn’t know how to react. Although Sam had gone back to the Grid and checked, could there be a possibility that Clu is somehow alive, controlling Rinzler? And if Clu is back… could his father be as well?

All these questions are shoved to the back of Sam’s mind when the elevator doors ding open. Sam steps out and gestures for the Program to follow him. He wants to move faster, get them to Alan’s as soon as possible, but if the Program has that level of strength, there’s no way in hell Sam wants to accidentally piss him off.

The floor is empty as they approach Alan’s office. His is the only one still lit at this hour, and Sam can hear the faint _tap-tap-tapping_ of Alan still at work. Sam knocks on the half-open door, before gently pushing Tron in.

“Sam,” Alan says, not even looking up. “I thought you said you were heading home. We can still order Thai if you want…” He looks up to Sam, concern filling his features. “What happened?”

Alan _always_ had been quick on the uptake.  

Sam hesitates, grimacing. “An employee got fired today,” Sam starts. Alan raises an eyebrow, wordlessly telling him to continue. “And I might have said something about his attitude.” Before Alan can discipline Sam (cause Jesus, he’s 27. He’s not a kid anymore), Sam places the bag with the gun on Alan’s desk. “And the guy might have been a little upset.”

Alan looks down at the bag, eyes widening. “Jesus Sam, is this a gun?!” he says, reaching forward to grab it. He stops himself short, instead moving to Sam and touching him, as Alan needs physical proof Sam is still alive in front of him. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?! Christ, Sam, what did you say to the guy?!”

“No! No he… well,” Sam shrugs. Jesus, no wonder Alan’s hair went gray so early. The worry on Alan’s face is all consuming. Sam nods towards Tron. “He helped me.”

Relief floods Alan’s eyes as he turns to Tron, nodding. “Thank you,” Alan says. Tron doesn’t remove his hood, choosing to just nod. It doesn’t seem to register to Alan because he turns back to Sam. “Did you know the attacker’s name? Do you want me to go with you to the police to file a report? Are you…”

“Alan, that’s not why I came back in,” Sam says, cutting him off. He gets Alan’s worried, he really does. But at the moment, they have other pressing issues at hand.

Alan stops. “But… what could be more important than you almost getting _shot_?”

Sam doesn’t know how to do this, so instead, he reaches over and tugs Tron’s hood off his head, revealing the Program’s face. Alan’s look turns from confusion to horror and Tron lowers his eyes. “Alan-One.” He sounds as awed as his monotone voice can. “It’s an honor.”

It’s silent in Alan’s office, and Sam looks between the program and the creator as the silence continues. “Alan?” Sam asks, feeling a little worried when Alan still hasn’t moved.

“Yes, I…” Alan tears his eyes away from Tron, looking at Sam. And Sam has never seen that look on Alan’s face. He’s seen disgust, bewilderment, and shock, but this… Alan looks terrified. “Sorry I… Who is this?”

“This is Tron,” Sam says. “He was made back when _Space Paranoids_ came out. And... now he’s somehow here.”

Alan move closer to Tron as the Program looks up to him, his facial expression still not changing. “Good lord,” Alan finally says, letting out a nervous laugh. “He looks… just like me.”

“I was made in your image, Alan-One,” Tron offers.

Alan lets out what Sam can only describe as a nervous chuckle. “Oh, yes. Of course. That makes perfect… Sam? Why is he here?”

Sam shrugs. “I have no idea. The guy pulled the gun and next thing I knew, Tron tackled him.”

“Sam, you get into the worst situations,” Alan says, rubbing his forehead. “In the morning…”

“Alan?”

They all freeze, as there’s a gentle knock on the door and Dillinger Jr pokes his head inside. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you had company. I just had a few more questions about the proposal that you and Sam offered…” He pauses, realizes no one in the room has moved. “And who is your friend?”

Sam looks over to Alan, who uses his corporate skills to instantaneously wipe the shock off his face and quickly approach the door before Sam has even considered the possibility of moving. Tron, on the other hand, finally has an expression on his face: murderous. Sam is too busy trying to not look too obviously at the gun on the table. Instead, he focuses on Tron.

Even with Alan’s charming talk of spreadsheets and data, Dillinger Jr seems like he’s trying to step into the room.

“Does your friend not speak?” Dillinger Jr says.

Tron almost turns around to face Dillinger Jr, but Sam fixes him with glare. He’s not exactly sure what has sparked Tron’s rage, but they do _not_ need Dillinger Jr to see Tron’s face nor see the blood speckled on Tron’s sweatshirt. Tron’s look reduces from murderous to the blank state that it had been, and Sam relaxes.

“He’s a friend of Sam’s,” Alan offers. “Just showing him around the office.”

Dillinger Jr hums. “Don’t show him anything sensitive, Sam. This is a company, not a playground.”

“Of course he won’t,” Alan says. Sam would’ve just punched Dillinger Jr in the face but that’s why Alan’s the one talking. “Those reports should be finished by tomorrow morning, so why don’t you head on home? It’s late.”

Dillinger Jr must nod or something, Sam is too busy maintaining eye contact with Tron to see. “Tomorrow morning should be fine,” Dillinger Jr says. “Goodnight Sam. And goodnight, Sam’s friend.”

 “Pleasure,” Tron says.

Dillinger Jr hesitates for just a moment, but that’s enough for Sam’s heart to start racing again. There’s no way he picked up the voice… right? Thankfully, Dillinger Jr walks away.

Alan waits a few more beats before shutting his door with a firm click. “Fuck,” he says, leaning his head against the wood.

Sam grimaces, running a hand through his hair. “Alan, I’m sorry…”

“Get him out of here,” Alan says. He sighs, seemingly composing himself before turning to face them “Sam, you and I are trying to upend the entire board of this company. A surprise child isn’t going to help either of our situations”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Surprise child?” he responds. “What the…”

“Would you like to explain to the board _what_ the Grid is and _where_ Tron came from exactly?” Alan asks.

“Uh… no,” Sam admits, before turning to Tron. “Also, what the hell was that. You’ve didn’t lose your cool before.”

Tron continues to look down. “That User insulted your earlier. I thought he should be dealt with.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Tron, I don’t need a bodyguard!” Sam exclaims. Tron raises his eyes, and Sam crosses his arms, uncomfortable. “Okay. Fine. Earlier was helpful. But—!”

Alan cuts Sam off. “Get …Tron back to my place and for god’s sake, don’t let people see what he looks like. Sam, the fact that you were almost _shot_ is already going to be enough to raise inquiries. Don’t give anyone at this company a reason to doubt you, okay?”

“Alan, I’m…” Sam starts, but Tron shakes his head.

“Alan-One asked us to leave,” he says. He heads towards the door, slipping his hoodie back on.

Sam moves to follow him when Alan gives him a look. “Be careful,” he says. He grabs the bag with the gun off the table, moving to put it into his safe. “I’m going with you to HR tomorrow morning.”

“Alan, I’m sorry. I won’t let him be seen…” Sam starts when Alan interrupts him.

“You never mentioned him coming through the portal with you after this last trip,” Alan says quietly. “You don’t know _why_ or _how_ he’s here, so just… be careful.”

What a thought to leave with.

\---

Tron doesn’t object to the motorcycle, and Sam is glad he keeps a second helmet for when Quorra randomly drops by the tower. With the helmet on, Tron reminds Sam a little too much of Rinzler, but Sam chooses not to say anything, climbing onto the bike and moving quickly to get them back to Alan’s. As they approach Alan’s, Sam can see a few lights on. So either Quorra’s home early or Alan has briefed her for what’s happened. Great.

He pulls into the garage (because he isn’t going to go through a potential mugging _again_ , even if he has Tron at his back), and cuts the power. Tron wordlessly climbs off the bike, and tries to hand Sam back the helmet.

Sam continues straddling the bike, chewing on his bottom lip. Tron watches him patiently. “Tron,” Sam finally says. “How long have you been following me?” Tron looks down at the helmet. Sam sighs. “Or, how long have you been here? And why?!”

Tron is quiet for some time. It’s long enough that Sam can climb off the bike and grab the helmet from Tron’s hands, strapping it to the bike again.

Eventually, Tron looks up, locking eyes with Sam. “Because you are the son of Flynn,” he says, as if that’s a logical explanation. “That’s why I’ve been following you.” It almost looks like he’s going to add something, but instead decides against it, closing his mouth tight.

Sam huffs. “Fine, then. Be cryptic. But for how long?”

Tron frowns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not sure how to measure time here,” Tron finally says. “I believe I’ve been here about four cycles?”

Sam blinks. “Wait,” he says. “How long is a cycle?”

“About a week.”

Sam almost jumps to Quorra stepping into the garage. She smiles over to Sam, but her expression is cooler when her eyes land on Tron.

“A week?” Sam echoes.

She nods. “About,” she repeats. “If he’s been here four cycles, then Rinzler has been here a little over a month.” Sam’s eyes widen and she nods grimly. “Alan says he’ll be back within the hour.”

Without another word, she turns and heads back inside.

\--

The wait for Alan is probably the longest time has ever felt for Sam. He’s not up for small talk, and wants to discuss this with Quorra before Alan arrives. He wants to go over possibilities and potentials and if there’s something they missed the last time they were in the Grid.

But Quorra only wants to discuss the _weather_ of all things. “I don’t want Rinzler to overhear anything,” she says. She steps away into the kitchen before Sam can add anything.

Tron is parked on the floor front of the television. It’s not on; he’s just been staring at it, expression as blank as the screen in front of him.

Sam sits on the couch beside him. Tron barely turns. “I apologize for showing up suddenly,” he says. “I should have…”

Sam laughs quietly. “What, called ahead of time?”

Tron goes silent, as the front door opens with Alan bearing food. Quorra pops out of her seat to help him and Sam observes the flow they have going. Quorra hasn’t been here long, but it’s clear enough that she considers this place as close to home as it can be.

So when the food is out and they’re all digging in (or, well, Tron and Alan are just picking at the food in front of them), Sam thinks it might go well.

Of course that peace wouldn’t last.

“You really don’t know why you’re here?” Alan asks, dropping his fork back into his plate.

Sam sighs, because this might have been the third time Alan has asked this evening. But considering Tron is wearing his face, Alan probably deserves to be reassured as much as possible.

Tron lowers his fork (he’s barely touched his food) and calmly explains again. “After the air fight, I landed in the Sea of Simulation. My systems were shutting down when there was a shockwave that seemed to ripple throughout the Grid. It must have pulled me out.”

Quorra exchanges looks with Sam, who nods in return. That must’ve been when Clu and Kevin had merged back together. The shockwave would’ve got them as well if the portal hadn’t taken them out at that moment.

“And when I came to, I saw the portal open again, and I thought maybe… Flynn would be there. But he was not, and then I woke up here,” Tron says, folding his hands. “I’m sorry I do not have better answers, Alan-One.”

“And you’ve been following Sam because?” Alan asks.

Tron shrugs. “Because."

Alan gives Sam a look, as Quorra leans forward. “Sam, can we be positive Clu has no control over Rinzler?” she asks, blunt of ever. “Or perhaps some residual coding that has him trying to take you out?”

Sam chokes on a noodle. “Seriously, Quorra?”

“She has a point,” Alan says. “I don’t claim to understand the Grid, but if Clu was able to control him for over twenty years, who’s to say he’s not still doing so now?”

Sam’s hand clenches into a fist. “Because it’s _Tron_. He’s not Rinzler. He protected me earlier tonight, and why would Clu waste his time on a Program that’s not going to take out his target?”

The table goes silent for a moment, with only the background noise of the TV filling the air. After a while, Quorra nods towards Tron. “Thank you for… your help in the fight.”

Tron just nods.

“I mentioned this at the office, Sam,” Alan says, leaning onto the table. He glances over to Tron and sighing. “But if you truly want me as Chairman of the Board, and want a position within your company—“

“I think CEO has a nice ring to it,” Sam says with a smirk. Quorra rolls her eyes, giving him a small smile.

“No matter what position,” Alan interrupts, fixing Sam a hard look. “The fact that Tron looks exactly like me is going to bring up media attention. Edward Dillinger Jr is just as malicious as his father, even if he’s subtler about it, and he’s already looking for any loophole to make sure we don’t end up there. If someone were to see Tron and try to make the connection that he’s my long-lost son…”

Sam can’t even fight that, and even if he could, the stress is apparent on Alan’s face. Sam sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Alan’s killed for this career, and leave it up to Sam to find the one thing to mess up those plans.

“Then what?” Sam asks, looking between Alan, Quorra, and Tron. “We set up a room and let Tron hide here?”

“Until our positions are secured and figure out why Tron is really here, I think that’s a great idea,” Alan says, sitting back in the chair. He turns to Tron, shrugging apologetically. “I am sorry, but if the media caught wind of you, they would never leave you or Sam or I alone.”

“I understand,” Tron says.

Alan pauses, as if he was expecting more of a fight. After a long while, he sighs and rubs at his face. Sam grimaces, knowing full well that he was the cause for 90% of the grey hairs on Alan’s head. “Look, let me go set up a room for you, Tron. And for you as well Sam.”

“Hey, I have a place,” Sam protests. “I don’t need you to baby me.”

Alan stands, grabbing his and Quorra’s plate “It’s late. One night won’t kill you.” He glances over at Sam who is still frowning. “That’s not a request.”

Sam grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Quorra intensely staring at Tron, but the Program seems to not notice, or, more likely, not care.

\--

In the middle of the night Sam wakes with a start. He head is filled with images of being back in the garage with Jacob pointing that gun at him. Shit, he could’ve died tonight because some asshole with a raging hard-on for vengeance had gotten _fired_. Sam sits up, rubbing his eyes. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he groans, climbing out of bed. The feeling of being watched… is _still_ there.

“Dammit Tron,” he mutters under his breath, doing a quick check around the room to make sure the Program hasn’t somehow broken in. There’s no one inside except him, and even a glance outside the window confirms that Tron isn’t sitting in a tree watching him out there.

He sighs and opens the door to the room. Maybe he’s going crazy, but at least some water will help.

He stops short at the sight of Tron sitting outside the room door.

The Program is fast asleep, hair half flopped onto his face. Sam doesn’t know how to take that. He probably should wake Tron up, should force him into his room or confront him about sitting outside his fucking door but…

Something about the Program just seems so peaceful. Without his blank eyes staring at Sam, Tron seems so much… younger somehow. The idea freaks Sam out, and he steps over Tron, heading into the kitchen to grab that glass of water.

“He’s been out there all night.”

Sam turns from the fridge to see Quorra sitting at the high counter top. She has her own cup of tea, staring in the direction of where Sam had come from. She catches his eye and gives a small shrug, sipping her tea again. “I got up a few hours ago to check a message board online---“ she begins.

“About what?” Sam asks.

Quorra waves her hand. “Never you mind. But I got up and he had been attentively sitting there for quite some time. He didn’t fall asleep until…” she glances at the clock on the microwave. “Maybe a half hour ago?”

After grabbing the water, Sam slides into a seat across from her. “So what, you’re watching him watch me?”

She hums, drumming her nails on the cup. Even with the small smile on her face, it’s obvious how much this bothers her.

They sit in companionable silence for a time. Sam checks the clock and winces, knowing tomorrow’s (or today’s) meetings are going to be hell to sit through, but there’s no way he can just go back to bed. Not with the knowledge that Tron’s sitting outside his door, watching him.

“He’s so… weird,” Quorra whispers. Sam turns to her and she lets out a nervous giggle. “It is really like looking at Alan in a mirror. Almost what Clu was to…” She goes quiet and sips her tea. “But speaking of Clu, he _was_ in control of Rinzler for a long time.” She paused. “I mean Tron. And just because he somehow broke from that, what’s to say Clu doesn’t still have some control over him?”

“Well,” Sam shrugs. “He hadn’t tried to kill us. Yet.” Quorra fixes him with a look. “Quorra, he hadn’t hurt us and he’s… probably scared. Even if he’s not showing it. You were a little nervous being in this world and you were at my side.”

“I also didn’t try to kill you the first time I met you,” she says. “Nor had I been brainwashed to try and kill my friends.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam says. “He’s got quirks. But he does seem worried about my wellbeing so I don’t think he’s going to kill me just yet. And if you could help him get acclimated to this world like you did, that would probably help him out a bunch.”

Quorra raises a delicate eyebrow. “Give him access to the internet? Rinzler _just_ broke away from mind control. Is it wise to do that?”

“Tron,” Sam says firmly. He stands, stretching his arms over his head. “His name is Tron. I know you and Alan are being careful, but he did help me out. He could’ve done a lot worse.”

It’s far too early in the morning to have this discussion, but he knows neither of them are going to change their minds right now and … Sam just wants to go back to bed. With a nod, he heads back to the room Alan set up for him, stepping over the sleeping Tron again.

Or … _not_ sleeping, as Tron’s eyes slowly look up to Sam. Tron looks like he wanted to say something but can’t… put what he’s thinking into words. After a moment, he just nods, eyes locked onto Sam.

Sam doesn’t know how to react, especially with Quorra staring at him from the kitchen. “Night,” he finally says, before stepping into his room and closing the door firmly behind him.

It takes a long time for Sam to fall back asleep.

\--

The next morning, Sam jolts awake, turns to the clock beside him, and curses before leaping out of bed. He isn’t _that_ far from ENCOM tower, but it would look better if he didn’t walk in at 9am sharp, especially considering all the high level executives he needs to meet.

Alan’s long gone; Sam isn’t all that surprised, considering the man probably gets to the office around 6am. Quorra is long gone as well, though Sam still hasn’t exactly figured out where she goes every day. He has offered to help her get more used to the real world, but one day he blinked and she was fine.

He’s sprinting through the house, quickly dressing himself in yesterday’s clothing and trying to think of a good excuse of anyone asks. “I crashed at Alan’s” is almost as bad as “walk of shame” to the board of directors. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sam notices that the television is on, and he stops his frantic preparations around the house to go investigate.

Tron is decked out in what looks like Alan’s sleepwear (which now that Sam can see it in daylight, is kind of hilarious) with the television on and a tablet resting on his knees. He’s staring down at it as the television roars behind him.

Sam pauses and takes in the scene. He never would admit to anyone he grew up with a Tron action figure on his bookshelf (that looked a _lot_ less like Alan), but to have the man (or Program) himself right in front of him, is still a bit mind boggling. To see Clu’s former mind controlled right-hand man all but docile, in sleep clothes and non-threatening is on this side of creepy.

Speaking of, the Program seems to notice he’s being watched, and says, “Quorra lent me her tablet before she left. She said it would,” he puts down the tablet and makes finger quotes, “'Catch me up.’” Tron looks up, taking in Sam’s attire. “Have a good day at work.” Tron’s expressions are still on this side of blank, but they’re becoming a little more expressive, bit by bit.

“I know I cannot follow you to work,” Tron continues, turning back to the iPad and tapping on it. “Alan-One made that _very_ clear this morning.”

Sam doesn’t want to know how that conversation went. “Right. See you later.” he says, heading out the door. Tron doesn’t even seem to acknowledge him leaving.

\--

It’s past the end of the work day when Sam flops into a chair in Alan’s office. Alan doesn’t even spare him a glance. “I am so excited the day they finally give you a desk,” he says, continuing to focusing on his computer. “So you can stop treating mine like a playground.”

Sam scowls. He’s spent the day jumping between HR, the police, and executive meetings and it’s not like any of them had been a jolly good time. HR had wanted to know who the stranger who saved Sam was, who had crushed the gun. HR also mentioned how Jacob’s past should have been flagged for anger issues, and Sam’s glad he almost got _shot_ to confirm their suspicions.

“Fuck HR,” Sam finally says.

Alan continues typing, a faint smile on his face. “I’m glad to hear your meeting with them went well today. Took a while.”

“Police reports tend to,” Sam says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a good thing I don’t know the guy who saved me, cause _that_ would’ve made it even worse.”

They sit in silence for a while, as Sam flips through a set of documents from Marketing he’ll needs to approve and sign off on (he’s going to run out of pens at this rate. Or well, Alan will), when Alan stops typing, hands paused over the keyboard. “He really does look just like me.”

Sam looks up from his papers, and Alan laughs, leaning back from the computer. “Who?” Sam says, before feeling stupid. “Tron?”

“Tron,” Alan confirms. “I just… after Lora… I never really thought about kids.”

Sam winces because he got to deal first hand with that breakup. It had been upsetting to say the least, but to watch Alan, the adult Sam had looked up to most after Kevin disappeared, go into a funk from that was downright depressing.

“I mean,” Alan adds with a forced smile. “I dealt with your shit, and you were enough trouble for ten kids.”

Sam narrows his eyes, and Alan lets out a laugh. He turns to look out the window and Sam can hear him sigh again. “I wonder if I did have kids, if they would’ve looked as much like me as Tron does.”

“Probably not,” Sam says. “He’s a direct clone of you, and babies are more—“

“Sam, I taught you the birds and the bees,” Alan interjects. “Don’t act cute.”

Sam grins, heading over to the window to stand besides Alan. He glances over at the man, and the grin slides off his face. Alan just looks more exhausted than usual.

“Hey, uh,” Sam starts. He doesn’t know what to do - offer a hand, apologize? Alan’s always kept his emotions in check around Sam (save for the Lora incident), so when he gets glimpses as to how Alan actually feels is jarring.

Alan’s phone goes off causing both men to jolt. Sam reacts first, heading back to Alan’s desk and grabbing the table, forcing a grin on. “Hey, Quorra…”

She cuts him off. “Tron is gone.”

Sam sits up straighter in his chair. “What do you mean Tron’s gone?” Even Alan turns from the window to give Sam a wide eyed look

Quorra sounds frantic, and it half sounds like she’s tearing apart the house looking for the Program. “I came back from work, and the door was locked and everything, but Tron isn’t in the house at all!”

Sam’s still processing the fact that Tron is _gone_ when Alan takes the phone out of his hands. “Quorra? Yeah?” He nods, drumming his hands on the desk. “Got it. Thanks. Meet you there.”

He thumbs the phone off and gives Sam a look. “Quorra is going to double check the neighborhood. I…” he pauses, looking at the computer. “I should…

Sam stands, hands already on his keys. “I’ll check the arcade.” Alan moves to protest but Sam shakes his head. “I know Tron appearance has thrown a wrench into our plans but I’m not letting everything you’ve worked for be jeopardized okay?”

Alan snorts. “True. You’ve done plenty of other things to terrify me.” He frowns, drumming his fingers on his desk. “Be careful, alright Sam? From what you and Quorra have said, when Tron was Rinzler, he was used to being an attack dog. The lack of orders might be throwing him off.”

Sam’s half way out of the room when Alan’s words hit him. They don’t help him realize where Tron may have gone but… a dog. Or, more particularly, _his_ dog.

 _Shit_.

“Yeah!” Sam says, giving an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I’ll head right over to the arcade.”

With that, Sam sprints towards the garage.

How could he’d be so stupid?! With everything that had been happening, he’d forgot about Marvin, his actual dog. It’s only been a night (plus a day. Sam winces), but he should be okay, right?

He lives closer to the arcade than he does to ENCOM tower, so Sam doesn’t feel that bad taking a detour to his apartment. His bike skids onto the gravel, and Sam whispers apologies to the machine as he kicks down the stand, running to open the doors.

“Marv?” he calls, checking inside. And then his heart drops. “Marvin?” His apartment isn’t that big – not big as all. He would be able to see his dog fairly quickly, and the fact that he can’t…

There’s a faint barking from outside and Sam pauses, closing the door and heading towards the water. The barking _does_ sound familiar, but there’s no way Marv would’ve been able to get out himself (though maybe he should create something that allows him to…)

He stops a few feet away from the water. That _is_ his dog, playing along by the water, with Tron standing watch a few feet away from him. Tron is careful to not actually _touch_ the water, despite how close he is to it. The Program pauses, as if knowing he’s being watched, and turns, waving Sam towards him. Sam approaches tentatively.

“I realized you didn’t go home to feed your animal last night. And from my research, he would’ve needed to be let out. And fed,” Tron says. It looks like he’s wearing CalTech sweatpants and a sweatshirt, so he must have raided Alan’s closest before leaving the apartment. “And Alan-One said to not go to your work. He _never_ said I couldn’t go anywhere else.”

Sam lets out a startle laugh, and Tron almost smirks, lips curving upwards. But the expression disappears almost as fast as it had appeared.

“How did you know…” Sam starts, trailing off when Tron shrugs.

“I’d been following you for a while,” Tron says, matter-of-factly. “I’d seen you with your animal before.”

Sam lowers his head, embarrassed. “Thanks…”

Marv barks, continuing the splash through the water. Apparently he’s seen Sam, because he bounds towards his owner, splashing water in his wake. At least one of them seems happy. Sam sighs contentedly, crossing his arms.

But it’s Tron that catches his sight. The Program is close enough to the water in case anything happens, but anytime Marv splashes, he inches back. His expression shows nothing, but the movement still gives Sam pause. His body language is more guarded than usual, and, frankly, it’s driving Sam a little crazy.

Sam moves beside Tron, who is staring out to the river. “You okay?” Sam asks, turning over to the program.

Tron doesn’t flinch, but it’s a damn near enough thing. Sam raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been better,” he admits, crossing his arms. “Water doesn’t…” he hesitates, before adding. “Agree with me.”

Sam’s confused, but Tron doesn’t offer anymore as he continues to stare out. Sam’s about to ask another question, even though he knows Tron won’t answer, when it hits him hard.

Between Quorra, his father, and him, out of all of them in the Light Fighter, he had been the only one to see what had happened to Tron. But when Tron had landed in the Sea of Simulation, he probably almost drowned.

Sam moves without thinking, grabbing Tron’s arm and moving them away from the water, back onto the rocks. Tron looks over to him, confusion and relief apparent on his face, but Sam just plops onto the ground, and whistles for Marv.

Tron probably is never going to tell Sam or, hell, anybody if something is wrong. And if no one is going to notice, then Sam might as well try to pay better attention.

Marv approaches, still wet from the river, and Sam beckons him over to his right side, away from Tron. The dog shakes himself, splattering water all over Sam. “Sorry, Marv,” Sam says, reaching over to pet his dog. Marv gently head butts him, as if punishing Sam for abandoning him. “Lots of things have happened in the last few days.” Marv barks, before racing back to the water.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Tron says. He’s staring straight ahead, so Sam can’t tell if he’s looking at the city, at ENCOM tower, or just at the river. “It’s a lot, dealing with a brainwashed assassin and trying to takeover with your father’s company.”

Sam goes still. He isn’t sure how to respond, because it’s not like he can _deny_ that Tron almost killed him in the Games, but that’s all different now. Or, perhaps the question of the hour is whether Tron _has_ actually changed.

Tron speaks again, cutting through Sam’s thoughts. “I wanted to thank you for continuing to call me Tron,” he says. “I suppose one never realizes what a name can mean until it’s no longer yours.”

“It’s no problem, Tron,” Sam says. “Sorry about Quorra, it’s just…”

“She never knew me as the original Tron?” Tron says. He tucks his knees to his chest, and folds his arms. To Sam, Tron looks impossibly young.

But Sam doesn’t like the idea of Tron separating himself into Before and After Rinzler, and frowns. “Well, yeah, Clu had you under his control for thousands of cycles. From what …” Sam pauses, and swallows the lump that always seems to resurface when he brings up his father. “From what my dad and Quorra told me about the Purge, it didn’t take long for Clu to wipe out the iSOs. And considering how many of them there were, she may have never see you until you were…”

Sam trails off, stopping. Tron turns to him, hair flopping in his eyes. Sam ignores the feeling that races through his chest and turns to face Tron, hating how he’s going to sound but he has to say it anyway. God, his heart is pounding a million miles a minute.

“The part of you that was Rinzler,” Sam says slowly, “Are there any triggers we should be worried about?” Tron’s expression doesn’t change as he continues to stare over to Sam. “Look, I want them to believe you. I do. But if anything turns you back into a killing machine, then I want to make sure we can steer away from that. Okay?”

“I _was_ that mindless creature.” Tron lifts his head and raises his hands in front of them, staring at them curiously. “I can barely remember Kevin Flynn. I can only remember Alan-One because of my core programming. Anything that was Tron before Rinzler is just a blip. And for a thousand or so cycles, I was watching my life in this haze that I couldn’t shake off. Until I fought you on the Grid.”

“Yeah, I guess I should thank you for kicking my ass,” Sam says. He’s a little thrown. He’s never heard Tron talk this much.

 Tron hesitates for a moment, before reaching over and touching Sam’s arm. Sam goes still. “I _cut_ you and it was like I could finally _see_ clearly,” Tron says. “And I knew that something had to have been wrong. But I couldn’t break out just yet but I should have. I couldn’t even register to me who you were and …”

Sam can sense Tron is on the edge of losing it. And there’s nothing like witnessing a childhood hero freaking out. Sam moves to give Tron something table to hold onto, even If to shake him gently, but Tron’s covered his face with his hands.

“I wanted to cut you again to see if your blood could trigger something,” Tron admits quietly. “But I knew Clu would be interested in a User on the Grid. The only reason I didn’t _hurt you_ was to satisfy Clu.”

“Tron, even if you couldn’t tell, there was a part of you that was protecting me,” Sam argues. Tron’s body language is more closed off than Sam’s ever seen, and he doesn’t know how to break in. “You kicked my ass and you didn’t know one Program from another, but you didn’t _derezz_ me or whatever it was called…”

Tron finally uncovers his face, turning to look at Sam. “I hurt the son of Flynn. I hurt you because I couldn’t remember who Flynn was anymore, much less who _I_ was. And I don’t know how great of a Program I was before Clu first got to me, but for over a thousand cycles, I became a Program who willingly hurt others, you included.” Tron shifts his position, kneeling so he’s somehow even closer to Sam. “But to atone, I will fight to protect the son of Flynn until I am no longer able to.”

Something inside Sam clicks and he drops his hands. “Is that why you have been following me? That mugger, the guy in the parking garage, Dillinger Jr… You've been trying to _protect_ me?”

Tron’s expression eyes widen and he starts to lean back. Dammit, Sam can see Tron putting his walls up again.

Sam leans forward, dropping a hand on Tron’s shoulder. “Tron, I’ve grown up hearing stories how you’re a hero. And that’s what you _are_. Even if you and Rinzler are the same, Clu was controlling your every move. But even so, when you fought me as Rinzler, you stopped before the final blow.”

“But I…” Tron starts and Sam shakes his head, leaning even closer. At this angle, he can’t believe he’s ever thought of the program as emotionless. There are flashes of pain and uncertainly all over his face, but Sam doesn’t know how to get through that.

“No, _listen_ to me, Tron,” Sam says. “You didn’t kill me. You didn’t hurt Quorra when Clu ordered you to. I’m not saying Rinzler was a saint, but Tron, after you’d been brainwashed for over a thousand cycles, a true part of you somehow managed to break through.” Sam reaches forward, grabbing Tron’s face. "Hell, you saved all of us during that Light Fighter battle. You sacrificed yourself to save my father, Quorra, and _me_ , and if you think any of that was part of Clu’s plan, you’re fooling yourself.”

Tron eyes are impossibly wide and Sam moves back a bit to give him some air, but doesn’t let go of Tron's face. “But you have to remember,” Sam adds “Anything bad you did, anyone you hurt while you were called Rinzler? That’s on Clu. _None of that was your fault.”_

Tron lets out a shaky breath. Sam lets him go, but doesn’t break eye contact. He can’t tell if the words have gotten through to the Program, but Tron’s breathing like he’s run a marathon. Sam is too, he realizes belatedly, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Tron,” he starts. Sam doesn’t know if he’s trying to apologize or… something else. “Tron, look…”

And then his phone chirps, alerting Sam of a new call. Both of them look confused for a moment, but then Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh, shit,” Sam says, fumbling for his phone. The phone goes blank, indicating Sam missed the call, and Sam curses again. Tron blinks, confusion apparent. “You went missing, and Quorra and Alan have been freaking out…” He thumbs through his contacts to call Quorra.

Of course this happens just as he’s finally getting through to Tron. Sam climbs to his feet, trying to give Tron a bit of space, but Tron follows him up, still looking a bit lost.

“I…” Tron tries, frowning a bit. He’s still breathing heavily. “I’m not quite sure of how to… respond to that.”

Sam’s about to answer when Quorra finally picks up. She sounds as mad as Sam’s ever heard her. “Sam! Sam, he’s not around the house, and since we didn’t hear from you, we went to the arcade and he’s not there. And neither are you!” Quorra exclaims before Sam can get a word in edge wise.

“Quorra…” Sam tries, but he can even hear Alan in the background, arguing about useless twenty somethings. Sam knows he should’ve called earlier but dammit, what great timing they have. “Guys, he’s alright. He was at my apartment. Sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“What?” Quorra says. “Why was he at your apartment?”

Sam’s about to answer, bringing up his own incompetence with his own damn dog, when Tron presses into his space. Sam moves the phone away from his mouth, about to give him the universal sign of ‘hang on a second,’ when Tron leans forward and gently presses their lips together.

It’s a damn good thing Sam has a tight grip on the phone, because otherwise he would’ve dropped it to the ground. He can vaguely hear Quorra in the background, asking where he’s gone, but he can’t even decipher what she’s saying anymore. Honestly, he can't really focus on anything except for the feeling of Tron's lips on his. Before he’s even registered the kiss for what it is (holy shit, Tron _kissed_ him?!), the Program steps back.

 “In videos online,” Tron says. “That’s how people gave thanks. At least, some of them did. So I assumed…”

Sam swallows, and mumbles something into the phone. He hopes it’s along the lines of “I’ll be back soon” but he’s not 100% sure. He thumbs the phone off and continues to stare at Tron.

Tron fidgets. An odd motion for the Program, Sam notes. “Son of Flynn, if I offended you—“

“Please,” Sam interrupts. “Call me Sam. Son of Flynn is too regal and kind of creepy. But let’s get you back to Alan… Alan-One, alright? He and Quorra are worried.” Tron nods, turning to beckon Marv back to them.

Sam runs a hand through his hair, sighing to himself. They can't afford for Tron to bundle his emotions back inside, only to deal with when he remembers the hell he’s gone through for the past thousand or so cycles. Sam doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right, but he wants the Program to understand. Needs him to, really.

“Tron.” he lets out a sigh, lowering his head. “Look, there’s no way you’re 100% Rinzler. He would’ve never…” And Sam hesitates, flushing a little. “Kissed me, no matter what online videos suggested. And maybe you’re not even fully Tron anymore. But who you become in the future is up to _you_. There’s no one controlling you or making you do what you don’t want. So… once you figure out what you want to do, and where you want to go, let me know. I’ll do what I can to help you get there.”

He doesn’t know how to react to the kiss. Not to say he didn’t like it (and a small part of him is cheering for kissing his childhood hero). But… Tron needs to be the one to take that step. Once he figures out where he is and how things fall into place, then Sam will follow up with that.

No matter how long that might take

With that, Sam heads back to his apartment, and Marv follows, happily oblivious to the heated discussion that had happened above him. The crunch of gravel alerts Sam that Tron is following, but if that wasn’t apparent, the tug on his arm moments later made it known.

“What if I want to stay beside you, Son of—” Tron pauses. “Sam. Kevin Flynn’s Tron would have stayed at his side, so it’s only fitting that I stay by yours.”

His phone rings again. Sam grumbles to himself, reaching to grab it, when Tron closes in, locking eyes with Sam. Suddenly the phone doesn’t matter, and Sam has to remind himself to breathe. “If that’s what you want,” Sam says.

Tron smiles. It’s not beaming and it’s not blinding, but it’s certainly a start. “That is what I would most desire,” Tron admits.

Sam grins in response, and they head back to his apartment.

\--

Quorra looks at the two of them, eyes narrow. “He ran away,” she says, mildly confused. “To feed your animal?”

Alan has somehow mixed sheepish and annoyed to have the most wonderful expression on his face. “I forgot about Marv,” he admits, before nodding to Tron. “Thanks for your help.” Tron moves to take off the sweatshirt, and Alan waves a hand. “No, keep them. Haven’t worn those in years.”

Tron nods. “I am sorry I worried you all,”

Quorra narrows her eyes, leaning forward towards them both. She jabs at his chest with a finger, and Tron blinks. “Don’t pull that again, okay?” She says, beginnings of a smile on her lips. “We were worried about you." She pauses, before adding, "Tron.”

He blinks again. “I understand the fear of the media catching on,” he says.

Quorra shakes her head. “No, Tron, we were actually worried about you.” She nudges Sam, and he nods in agreement.

“Yeah. Media aside, this isn’t your world. You already spent a month alone,” Sam says. “Don’t do that again,”

“How about,” Alan adds from the other side of the kitchen. “Tron stay with you, Sam? He can look after your dog nights, and …” he shrugs. “Honestly, I’d feel more comfortable if there was someone around watching your back.”

Sam laughs and drops an arm around Tron’s shoulders. The program goes still. “Afraid we’d eat you out of house and home?” Sam asks. He then gives Tron a look, trying to decide if he needs to move his arm.

Alan responds, saying something about his empty refrigerator, but Sam barely hears him, focusing on Tron, who nods. “You’re fine,” Tron says softly.

“And Sam?” Alan says, apparently continuing the conversation that Sam had accidentally tuned out. “There were a few more documents you need to look over before tomorrow…” Sam sighs.

Quorra waves a hand. “Don’t worry about Ri—Tron. I’m going to show him a few websites he needs to keep an eye on.”

“Hey now!” Sam says, but Quorra has already grabbed Tron’s arm, leading him away.

Tron shoots him a look and Sam shrugs, helpless to whatever techno babble Quorra will be giving to Tron, but the Program simply… smiles again. He settles onto the couch next to Quorra as she grabs the tablet from this morning.

“Sam?” Alan calls from the kitchen table. “Come on. It’s not that many.”

Okay, maybe paperwork isn’t exactly what he wants to be doing. And maybe Tron didn’t expect to jump out of the Grid and end up having to watch his dog. Life is full of unexpected things, but Sam thinks he'll be okay. If he has Alan, Quorra, _and_ Tron to watch his back, the ENCOM board, or even, hell, the world can put up a fight against him. He’s pretty sure they’ll be able to take them on.

But for now, paperwork.

Sam sighs and pulls up a chair besides Alan, forcing himself to ignore the way his heart thuds every time Tron glances over at him. “Where do I start?”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://legendaryguardian.tumblr.com)!


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